


Showtime

by fairhearing



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Porn, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairhearing/pseuds/fairhearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: "Sulu/Chekov with McCoy as the voyeur."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showtime

* * *

  

At first McCoy thinks the whispers and rustling are just part of his dreams, which are odd and full of vague anxieties, as they always are when he's had Long Island Iced Teas before bed. But then he hears the unmistakable wet sound of a broken kiss.

"... but I _need_ it..."

McCoy blinks groggily awake. The headboards they use in this Bajoran hotel are mirrored, highly reflective, so even in the faint glow of the room's electronic display he can clearly see Sulu's bed, even with his back turned. He squints: there are definitely two distinct bodies writhing around on the blankets over there.

He has to bite back an exasperated curse. He called dibs on bunking with Sulu for this stupid mission to avoid precisely this kind of thing -- he got enough of it in the Academy from Jim stumbling in at all hours with his catch-of-the-night on his arm. But apparently Sulu's reasonable and conservative demeanor is deceiving, or maybe he's just had too much to drink, because it certainly looks like he's trying to suck the face off of whoever he's -- oh.

Curls.

McCoy shifts his gaze reflexively, feeling his face go hot.

So the rumors about Sulu and Chekov are true. He supposes it's better than Jim and his one-night stands. In fact, in a way, it's kind of... cute. Would have been nice if the two of them had been able to hold off their drunken fumblings until a time when McCoy wasn't, you know, sleeping in the damn bed next to them, but cute all the same.

He's about to cough, maybe shift meaningfully, to put them off what they're doing, when Chekov whips off his shirt and straddles Sulu's lap.

"Please, he's sleeping, Hikaru, I can't wait anymore," he's whispering, and, wow, grinding down on Sulu with a pretty impressive swivel of his hips.

Sulu arches back, his mouth open, and then -- damn, Sulu. All of a sudden Chekov's flat on his back, Sulu between his legs, holding him down with one hand and tearing Chekov's pants open with the other.

McCoy raises his eyebrows, still watching the entire thing in his reflective headboard. He wouldn't have taken Sulu to be so... forceful. And Chekov to be so... God, whimpering as he humps the air, like he'll die if Sulu doesn't touch him. It's hot and intense, something McCoy shouldn't be seeing, and soon he won't be able to ignore the erection that's been building since this started.

"God, please, _puzhalsta_ ," Chekov chokes out in a whisper, clutching at Sulu's shoulders, and Sulu leans down to kiss him fiercely, his other hand busy with some kind of -- bottle --

Oh hell no. Seriously? Here? Now?

But McCoy's not sure anymore if he really wants them to stop, or why the fact that Lieutenant Sulu is about to fuck Ensign Chekov into the mattress in the bed next to him is somehow almost unbearably fucking hot. His own cock is so stiff now that it aches, and for a second he entertains the crazy idea of jacking off right here, quick and quiet, but of course he never would, and --

There's a gasp as Sulu slides Chekov down the mattress by the hips. In the same fluid movement, Sulu's grabbed Chekov's legs and hauled them over his shoulders, crushing his mouth over Chekov's to keep him quiet as he pushes in --

Oh, fuck this.

McCoy slides his hand into his boxers, the movement invisible under the blankets. He doubts Sulu or Chekov would have noticed, anyway: Chekov's head is thrown back in a silent scream, arms above his head, hands twisting the pillow, his entire pale pretty body exposed and undulating with every one of Sulu's thrusts. Sulu's got one hand planted next to Chekov's head, the other jacking fast between Chekov's legs, and he surges up and back in smooth and almost silent movements, a consummate pilot to the end.

It's the look on Sulu's face that almost brings McCoy over the edge, though. He's concentrating so hard, trying to keep so quiet, but he keeps having to close his eyes over and over as he stares down openmouthed at Chekov's face, as though knowing that he's making Chekov feel good is too much, will make him come too soon.

McCoy's own eyelids are starting to close as he feels himself get closer and closer, staring at this, when all of a sudden Sulu glances up for just an instant and their eyes meet in the silver surface of the headboard.

McCoy's hand goes still. Sulu's rhythm slows for just a moment.

" _Hikaru_!" gasps Chekov, grabbing at him, and Sulu lets out a low, gutteral groan. He heaves Chekov up into his lap -- Chekov cries out -- and then Sulu's slamming up into him crazily, shoving Chekov down onto his cock on every stroke.

But his eyes are still locked on McCoy's; he's staring at him as Chekov screams out a muffled orgasm onto Sulu's shoulder, Sulu fucking him all the way through it, and Sulu's panting and beginning to groan softly as he gets close but he's still staring at McCoy with that expression that's some kind of mixture of pride and defiance and -- tenderness --

They come at the same time, Sulu's deep low moan disguising McCoy's own ragged breaths.

McCoy watches as Chekov and Sulu lie back down against the pillows, keeping their arms wrapped around each other, kissing softly.

All three of them fall asleep afterward without another word.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Sulu stops McCoy after breakfast, wincing slightly and stuttering out a request for a hangover hypospray. His face is beet red.

"Thanks, Doc," he says afterward, rubbing his neck and clearly trying to broach something. "Um, you know, last night I drank way -- way, way, way, too much, and... um..."

"Join the club, Sulu," McCoy says briskly, putting away his medical kit. "I had the craziest dreams last night. See you at the conference."

Even though McCoy pretends to be checking his PADD on his way out, he doesn't miss Sulu's look of relieved gratitude.


End file.
